Unforeseen
by Chloe the Critic Cat
Summary: After being away for two years, Leo's finally come home from the war front. But not the way Mikey was expecting him to. (Human AU!) One-shot, may change.


**A/N Spent the past week bouncing this around and finally putting pen to paper. I will be updating Intentions, for those of you who follow that. Just as soon as I have the perfect chapter to carry all of those expectations and that tension.**

 **So real fast, here's their ages:**

 **Leo: 21**

 **Raph:** **19**

 **Donnie: 17**

 **Mikey: 14**

 **You can do the math for the flashbacks, right? Sorry, I know it's the weekend. ;D (Here's a hint, Leo and Mikey are 7 years apart.)**

 **Tell me if you think I should expand the story, or leave it a one-shot! (And how you would like to see it expanded!) Thanks!**

 **'Kay anyways, enjoy this! Or whatever it is you do with something like this.**

* * *

It was 6:43 on a Saturday morning.

Mikey was wide awake, not bouncing off the walls quite yet, because it was too early for even _him_ to be hyper.

But he was excited.

Leo was coming home.

It was the main thing on his mind as he rummaged through the kitchen, grabbing ingredients from the pantry and the fridge. Doing a quick recount of the eggs, he scribbled 'eggs' on the 'Out of' list placed conveniently on the refrigerator door, then he turned back to focus on the job at hand.

Mikey plugged the waffle iron in, dug the measuring cups out from a mountain of dishes, washed them, grabbed a whisk, and spent the next seven and a half minutes searching for his favorite mixing bowl, which had somehow found a home in the very back of the cabinet. How had it gotten there?!

Once he had it, he started putting the recipe together.

Waffles were comfort food. Mikey didn't make them all that often, but when he did it was for a special occasion, like first-days-of-school, the morning of a really bg game, every morning during finals week to make sure Donnie would eat, that kind of thing. And today was definitely waffle worthy.

It was on short notice, so it was a miracle that he had enough of everything.

Splinter had sat them all down to tell them the news the night before.

Raph had been moody before his butt even hit the cushion, which meant that he already knew that the news was, and he didn't like it.

So Mikey had really been thrown for a loop when Splinter announced that Leo was coming home.

"His flight will be arriving rather late, so only Raphael and Donatello will be accompanying me," Splinter said.

Inside, Mikey deflated a little. He knew from the look on his father's face that he only had to ask and he could come, too, but he held his tongue. Someone had to be at home, waiting, and if that was going to be him, like always, then it would be him.

"April and Casey will be staying here with you," Splinter said, and Mikey started to protest but he swallowed the complaint. They deserved to be there when Leo walked through that front door.

"How long will Leo be here for?" Donnie asked.

"His ticket is one-way," Splinter said.

"Wait, but doesn't that mean-" Donnie stopped himself.

"So, Leo's _staying_? Awesome!" Mikey exclaimed, especially happy to have something not negative to say.

The look that flickered across their faces confused him for an instant, but not long enough to dampen his spirits.

Now, as Mikey added in extra vanilla, his specialty, he wondered if he should have saved the waffles for tomorrow morning. True, there probably would be extras, but reheated waffles just didn't taste quite the same as fresh ones. Well, it was too late to rethink breakfast, anyways, the first ladleful of batter had already been poured.

Maybe he would make fresh ones for Leo tomorrow. As long as Leo didn't try to help, it should be fine.

lllllll

 _"What are you doing?"_

 _Leo never looked so sheepish in his life. "Trying to make breakfast?"_

 _Mikey sniffed. "It smells like something's burning." He noticed the smoking waffle iron. "Were those waffles?"_

 _"I think so?" Leo sighed. "I don't even know if I got the batter right."_

 _Mikey glanced inside the bowl. "Uhhh...I think I can fix it."_

 _He grabbed the milk and started whisking some in. "Get your crisps out. Put them in, like, a plastic baggie or something. Raph might feed it to his pigeons."_

 _Leo complied willingly, and Mikey tasted the batter. He frowned. Something was still off._

 _"Leo, where's the vanilla?"_

 _"Vanilla?"_

 _Mikey groaned. No wonder it had tasted off. A quick scan of the cupboards, and he had the vanilla. He measured out the correct amount, put it in, and hesitated. Maybe an extra teaspoon wouldn't hurt... He glanced at Leo. Yeah, he was going to put a little more in, just to be safe._

 _After that, his seventeen year old brother took a backseat, only helping when he was allowed to._

 _"You made this?" Raph had said incredulously, later at the table._

 _"Well," Leo glanced over at Mikey, "I might have had little help."_

lllllll

Leo had practical been banned from the kitchen after that, and although Mikey would never wish Leo's presence in the kitchen exactly, the memory was one of his favorites.

"Waffles, huh?" Raph said, folded in the doorway.

"Yup," Mikey flipped up the top. "Want the first ones?"

In response, Raph pulled out three plates.

"Oh, could you get the syrup? I haven't-"

Raph was already one step ahead of him.

It was quiet for a moment, the only sound the microwave.

"Raph, is Leo really coming home? To stay?"

"Yeah," Raph said. He looked at Mikey intensely, debating something. "Mikey..."

The microwave beeped indignantly.

"Never mind," Raph said, pulling out the syrup.

Mikey wanted to press for details, but the next batch was nearing perfection and he couldn't risk getting distracted.

By the time they were sitting at the table, where Donnie was waiting, he'd mostly forgotten about it.

"Dude, I don't even use that much syrup."

Donnie blinked. He saw the sea of liquid sugar he had drowned his waffles in, and jerked the jug upright.

"Something wrong, D?"

"What? No. The waffles are great, Mikey."

Donnie hadn't even taken a bite yet.

"You guys are acting weird," Mikey mumbled into his next mouthful.

Neither of them denied it.

He finished his waffles, which had suddenly lost all flavor, and went to go do the dishes, but Raph stopped him.

"I'll get 'em," he said, taking Mikey's plate and fork.

Mikey put his hand to Raph's forehead. "You feelin' alright, bro?"

"Knock it off, dork," Raph said, pushing his hand away roughly. But he was grinning.

Mikey grinned back, but his concern followed him around for the next handful of hours.

He told himself that his brothers were just nervous, they hadn't seen Leo in two years, they didn't know what to expect, but none of it sounded right. It was Leo. And as far as Mikey knew, he was the same as always.

Mikey had written to Leo faithfully, posting a letter every Friday, and Leo always wrote back, except for once or twice. Like, he hadn't gotten a letter this week. But Mikey hadn't sent one either. Why send a letter, when they could just talk face-to-face?

The whole snail mail idea had been Leo's of course, Mikey thought, as he stepped into the shower. It had started at, or maybe it was after, Coney Island.

lllllll

 _It was Leo's last day at home. And he had set it aside especially for Mikey. Splinter and Raph and Donnie had each gotten their day of Leo, but Mikey had gotten his last day. It would have been special if they'd spent it at a landfill._

 _But Leo had taken him to Coney Island, which made it even more of a treasure._

 _They'd ridden every ride until it felt like they were riding it even when they weren't, like when you spend the entire birthday party in the bounce house. You still felt as if you bouncing when you were sitting in your seat, driving home._

 _Mikey was also pretty sure they'd broken the Guiness World Record for most cotton candy, popcorn, and ice cream eaten in one day._

 _He'd had a pretty big cloud of pink cotton candy when they went down to the beach, the sticky sugar stuck to his sticky fingers stuck to the sticky stripes of the sticky paper cone._

 _"Do you really have to go, Leo?"_

 _He looked down at Mikey, tenderly brushing away his little brother's bangs, picking out a piece of pink fluff in the process._

 _"Yeah, Mikey, I really do."_

 _Mikey felt safe there, his head on Leo's shoulder, Leo's arm wrapped around him. Nothing in the world could get him there, in his brother's embrace. But somehow a twinge had worked itself into his chest._

 _"You'll always come home, right, Leo?"_

 _He barely heard his response as he drifted off, but it was there._

 _"Of course, I will. Promise."_

 _The next thing he remembered was lying on the couch, Raph and Leo fighting in the background._

 _"Well, what was I supposed to tell him, Raph? That this could be the last day we ever see each other?"_

 _"Don't ask me that, Leo. You know you can't make a promise like the one you did. It's Mikey. He'll believe you."_

 _"I'd better not break his trust then, should I?"_

 _Mikey's still mostly asleep brain couldn't fully process what he'd heard, but he remembered what Leo had said, and his uncertainty faded. Leo never broke his word._

 _The floorboards creaked, and someone bent down beside him. There was that familiar gesture of gentle fingertips followed by a light kiss on his forehead._

 _"Bye, little brother."_

 _When he woke up the next morning, there was a postcard waiting for him on the table._

lllllll

Tilting his head to prevent the mango scented suds from getting into his eyes, Mikey smiled at the image of Leo's soft, sure penmanship, the letters a fearless black against the glossy white.

He could recall every word from that postcard. Turning the shower off, he traced Leo's signature in the steam on the glass. He could totally forge a check under Leo's name, if he wanted to.

Grabbing his fluffy orange towel, he toweled off, sixty-one percent dry before his food hit the bath mat. Pulling on his clothes, he considered brushing his hair, then decided against it, and bounced out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

The scrapbook sat on his desk. It wasn't a scrapbook exactly, well, it was, just not the conventional kind. Instead of pictures, there were letters on every page. Photocopies of every letter he'd sent Leo were taped to every left page, Leo's letters to him glued to every right page.

The letter book was almost like a diary. It was strictly for his and Leo's eyes only. Of course, Leo didn't know about it yet, but Mikey was sure his brother would love the collection. It held every word, every doodle, every random mark they'd forgotten to erase, or couldn't, everything the two had exchanged from the past two years.

Taking down his turtle tape dispenser, he attached the copy of his last letter to Leo, the one he hadn't sent yet. The real thing was waiting in Leo's bedroom.

He wondered if it would be weird if he continued to write Leo letters.

It had become a comfortable habit, to sit down and write down the week's events. Mikey had even watched the new episodes of Space Heroes that came out, or the re-runs, so that he could keep Leo updated on his favorite show. Raph would complain the entire time, but he would always make some sarcastic, yet accurate, remark about which part Leo would've loved, so Mikey put up with him.

In his last letter, there hadn't been too much about Space Heroes. Mickey had found the craziest thing, and written all about it.

lllllll

 _"Weo! Weo, I haf someting for you!"_

 _"You do," Leo said scooping the three year old into his lap. "What is it?"_

 _"A pi'ture!"_

 _"A picture? For me?"_

 _"Uh huh! See! Donnie wead me 'bout da wedder. 'Specially tunderstorms."_

 _"He did?" Leo said, the trace of alarm lost in the toddler._

 _"Yup! I was scarwed at first, 'cuz tunderstorms are scarwy, but den I 'membered Weo, and I wasn't scarwed anymore!"_

 _"Mikey, that's awesome!"_

 _"Mmm hmm. So when Donnie told me to go dwaw, I dwew dis!" His chubby little pointer finger poked the paper excitedly. "Dis is our house, and dat's your bedwoom. Dat's you, scarwing away da naughty tunderstorm, and dat's me and Waphie. Donnie's weading, 'cuz he's always weading." Mikey paused, as if considering something._

 _Then he clambered up Leo to whisper something in his ear._

 _"Waphie is scarwed too. But don' tell him, pwomise?"_

 _Leo smiled. "Promise."_

 _Satisfied, Mikey plopped back down. "Now dat I'm not scarwed anymore, I can help Waphie not be scarwed, too." He looked up at his big brother, baby blue eyes wide and innocent. "Do you like it, Weo?"_

 _Leo set the picture aside only so that he could cup the round, freckled cheeks in his hands._

 _"Mikey," he said seriously, "I love it."_

lllllll

It wasn't a lie. To this day, Leo still over all of Mikey's work. The look on his face when Mikey showed him a finished piece was always more than enough motivation.

Which reminded him, he had a project that was reaching it's deadline.

Carefully pulling it from its secret hiding place, Mikey set the drawing out.

He'd been working on it for the past two years, ever since Leo wrote that line about wishing he had remembered to take a picture of the two of them at Coney Island. Mikey'd figured that he could just make Leo one, so he had.

Once he'd settled on a scene, he had gotten to work, pouring his heart and soul into it.

The Renaissance Michelangelo's masterpiece had been 'David'.

Mikey's was this.

It was him and Leo sitting on that bench on the beach. The pre-dusk light cast a special light on everything, from the waves to the shadowy fold of Mikey's hoodie. He's put everything he had into every detail, and every aspect looked real. The sand and the wood, even the invisible things like the wind pulling at their hair and the tangible emotion in the air. It was so easy to believe in it, right now. He could practically hear Leo's promise and he clung to it.

Mikey had just finished the very last thing, his signature, when the sleep he couldn't get the night before came crashing down on him. He barely made it to his bed.

Hours later, he heard the familiar screechy brakes and was out of the bedroom before he even heard a car door open. The Picture was in his hand, his hair was a mess, the pillow had left a mark on his cheek; he looked the way he always did when rushing to greet Leo. A mess with a masterpiece.

Practically tripping down the stairs, he arrived at the bottom breathless. He could hear the key slipping into a lock.

April and Casey, who Mikey had forgotten were even coming, exchanged a glance.

"Mikey-"

The door swung open.

"Leo!" He wen to leap into his brother's arms, but faltered. "Leo? Why are wearing sunglasses, it's pitch..."

 _Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. No._

Leo was blind.


End file.
